The adjustment to life on tour was hard for Patrick, and harder on your relationship. Patrick had gone from spending all his time with you, and Art, at the tennis academy, to suddenly living a lonely life on tour. His hours spent training, money spent on hotel rooms and flights just to keep up with the schedule. Patrick had been on the tour for four years now, his ranking was finally up into the top 100. He had automatic entry into bigger tournaments, was actually making money, yet he was still missing his days at Mark Rebellato.

Long distance was hard on you both, with you at college and Patrick half way across the world most of the time. It was no surprise that your relationship was strained, the two of you had been together since you were both sixteen. Six years together. Over half of that was during Patrick's professional tour.

When Patrick got injured, he knew it wasn't going to be easy on him. He was told he'd be off the tour for at least two months, told to rest up at home and work with his physiotherapist. You'd just graduated, moved into your first apartment away from college. Patrick thought the only upside of his injury was that it meant he could spend those two months with you, playing house. The first two weeks were bliss, as they always were whenever he would visit in between tournaments. But usually, two weeks was the most amount of time you'd spend together, before Patrick would have to hop on another flight.

You both noticed, but both hadn't acknowledged it. The awkward tension, the lengthly silences. Like two ghosts, two shells of what your relationship used to be. You both weren't the same people you used to be, yet neither of you could ever admit that out loud. Too scared of disclosing the truth, of even considering that the two of you may have grown too distant. Become too comfortable with the distance. Another night of eating together in silence, lazy touches on the couch. Patrick's fear speaks for him before he can hear the words forming. "Do you not love me anymore?"